


I just followed your scent (you can just follow my smile)

by seasonschange



Series: Fucked Up [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Dark Steve, Evil Avengers, Killer Steve, M/M, Manipulative Nick Fury, Misunderstandings, Nick dies, OOC Matt Murdock, OOC Nick Fury, Omega Bucky - Freeform, Oral Knotting, Porn With Plot, Psychological Torture, Serial Killers, Sleep Sex, Steve has feelings now, THOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, Torture, WHY AM I KILLING GOOD PEOPLE, matt murdock dies, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5396558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasonschange/pseuds/seasonschange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the authorities finally catch up with The Matchwrecker, there are a <i>lot</i> of things that don't turn out the way Steve expected. That his bondmate would so easily betray him is by far the most upsetting of all.</p><p><b>SAME TAGS APPLY AS THE 1ST PART</b> so I'm only adding new, story-relevant ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CommanderRogers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderRogers/gifts).



> I think something like 3 people expressed their vague interest in a series/sequel to _When I'm fucked up_ , so ofc I went ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ and started writing. If you're still here after finishing part 1, you're truly brave and I admire your perseverance. Now here's more fucked up pr0n.
> 
> Title from [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNkivNlkjj8).

* * *

_Now_

* * *

 

 Steve slowly swims to the surface of consciousness, mind floating drowsily at the very limit. Everything is darkness, but it's warm and peaceful - until there's a certain heat building inside him that feels oddly out of place in the dark and nothing; a heat that's too _exciting_  not to result in Steve's body finally taking that last step towards awakening.

Steve blinks his eyes open, squinting in the morning light.

He's on his side on the wide hotel bed, Bucky's sleeping form nestled against his front and a hand buried under his pillow, ready to close around the handle of the knife he's found himself hiding there more often than not... and not always for the sole purpose of protecting him and his mate.

They're currently in Italy, in Rome to be precise and have been inhabiting the country for a little over seven months now, playing the part of the couple of tourists on their innocent honeymoon to perfection. Steve's even managed to curb his predatory instincts as much as he can, mostly for Bucky's sake but also because he's come to appreciate this new and  _ordinary_  life next to his mate, despite the nostalgia and homesickness hitting him at moments. 

And the urges -  _god_ , those urges to take and destroy, always simmering in his blood and threatening to take over.

But he wants to spend all the necessary time to reacquaint himself with Bucky. The rest of the world can damn well wait until he's done rediscovering the shape of his bondmate's body.

The Scavengers will do fine without him for a little longer, if Tony doesn't get too clingy again.

Casting the unpleasant thoughts away before they've ruined his good mood, the alpha feels around and after his fingers come in contact with the weapon, he strokes it almost reverently, the sensation of warm steel deeply reassuring.

Familiar; in a place where nothing - not even Steve - feel this way anymore.

Only after does he shift his focus to the heat that's curled tight in his gut, and the person who's causing it. _  
_

Gazing down at his omega lying completely helpless, and  _trustful_  in his embrace, the thought _"never again"_  resounds through him fiercely, emotions always heightened to the point of bordering physical pain when it comes to Bucky. If Steve had thought this bond would be something temporary, merely another source of amusement to him until he grew tired of the omega - he'd been proven terribly wrong.

He'd tried to let go, and found out that he just...  _couldn't_.

Steve knows now with a new-found clarity that him and Bucky - it's a forever type of bond. The same kind of relationships Steve's never believed could exist, yet he's found his one and only and now his omega's nearing the beginning of his heat, already experiencing the first stirrings of that unbearable  _want_ and as usual, Steve's metabolism's racing to catch up because there are no other options. If Bucky needs something, Steve will provide; whatever that something might be, and whatever the cost.

And never again is he letting go. By binding himself to that particular omega, Steve's claws have dug deeper into that soft skin than he'd thought, and prying them apart has turned out to be impossible.

When Bucky inevitably makes his next mistake, Steve will carve his punishment into his flesh and hold the smaller man all the way through - by his omega's side from beginning to end, unlike the last time.

_Together forever._

Steve smiles, pleased by that thought. His cock is quickly filling up under the sheets, the smell of his mate permeating the air and bringing all kinds of pleasurable memories to Steve's mind. But he wants to touch more of that warm, golden skin, so he pulls his hand out from underneath the pillow and drags Bucky closer by the waist.

The omega makes a small snuffling sound, pressing against Steve's bigger body without waking up. The fresh onslaught of sensations - Bucky's naked back rubbing into Steve's chest and making his nipples harden from the friction, the roundness of his bottom pushing into Steve's lower belly, his rich brown hair tickling Steve's throat - they're all deliciously teasing Steve's senses, gently coaxing his erection to full mast.

He nuzzles Bucky's head with a soft groan, inhaling hard into his omega's hair, tasting the enthralling scent then exhaling it hotly.

It's not the same when Bucky's in a full-blown heat, when he smells so much sweeter and overpowering and the only thing Steve can think about is grabbing the languid omega by the hips and plowing into him mercilessly.

Steve's still tempted to mount his unconscious mate with an urge that tastes like his ruts. But it's mostly born from that quiet desperation - itself born from a silent fear of losing his omega all over again.

He remembers Bucky doing something similar to him during his last heat, waking Steve up with the alpha's cock buried deep inside him, knot fully swollen and the last of his seed spewing out of him in jerky, uncontrollable pumps. Steve had loved the combination of being shocked out of sleep and the orgasm ripping through him the first sensation he came to. It had rendered him speechless, gasping and shaking from the intensity of his release. Meanwhile, Bucky had been mercilessly chasing after his own pleasure, body milking his overstimulated length and sore knot with a mindless determination.

Now Steve nuzzles Bucky's head until he's found his ear, biting into the tender flesh then licking a wet trail down his sleepy omega's neck, paying especially attention to the scar left by his teeth many years ago. Bucky tastes warm and wonderful and without the rut dictating his decisions, Steve chooses to ignore his own arousal for the time being and focus on satisfying another one of his appetites.

With a rustle of sheets, Steve crawls down the bed and Bucky's body, nudging him gently onto his back, lips and tongue never parting from the omega's supple skin. He traces Bucky's jawline, and follows with a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his throat and the narrow chest. When Steve's mouth fastens on a pebbled little nipple, the omega's mewling noises fill Steve's ears, and the otherwise quiet hotel room.

There had been a time not so long ago when Steve had been convinced it had been the end of their time together. That memory quickens his heartbeat, an unpleasant feeling sitting heavy on his stomach. Steve remembers everything he's been through for this one man as he pulls and nibbles at the sensitive flesh, drawing quiet gasps from Bucky's lips.

_Never again._

Steve's only certainty is that his omega has learned his lesson, and won't be repeating that same mistake twice.

He's made sure of that.

A quick glance up Bucky's body reveals that the smaller man's still sound asleep, features slack and showing no trace of awareness.

Steve eventually releases the abused flesh, lips curling into a wolfish smile. His mouth goes back to tormenting the same nipple for a little more before trailing kisses towards the other one.

It's only once Bucky's teats are puffed up and glistening red that Steve's satisfied, giving them both a last,  _hard_ peck that earns him a muffled moan from the smaller man above him. 

"Mine," he purrs to himself, bright blue eyes riveted to the beloved body of his mate.

Then he trails even lower, until his lips are sliding down Bucky's straining little member and Steve eagerly starts working his omega towards a fast release.

* * *

Bucky wakes up to warmth and wetness surrounding him like a snug glove, blinding pleasure shooting down his spine and rolling down to his extremities in tingling waves.

His metal arm almost rips through the sheets when he reaches down, spasming fingers grasping blond hair and holding onto the head of his alpha who is still moving at a fast pace between his legs, intent on sucking him dry.

Bucky's eyes can only remain tightly shut as he thrashes and moans, emptying himself inside his alpha's mouth.

 _"Ste-ve!"_  He cries out, voice turning guttural when Steve unexpectedly pushes two fingers inside him and brings the omega's orgasm to a higher summit.

* * *

_Then_

* * *

 

Bucky's panting loud and hard, muscles on fire. His heart's pounding like never before - enough to  _hurt_. But not enough to make him slow down as he sprints through the dead of the night.

He suddenly stumbles, stepping into a deep puddle of water that leaves his right foot soaking wet, and freezing cold. He barely notices and never stops, not even to shake the dirty water off his shoe. He can't afford the luxury of slowing down as he runs for his life, quite  _literally_.

Not when Steve's hot on his heels with the promise of murder in his stone-cold eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

_Then_

* * *

 The Russian weather is harsher than Bucky expected.

The wind is cold and unforgiving, its icy fingers running cruelly through his hair and scratching frozen nails down his back. The first thing Steve did after landing was supply them both with a complete wardrobe of winter clothing. Seeing them now, nobody would suspect they were Americans born and bred, only ever used to the East Coast's temperate climate. Bucky knows Steve has done his fair share of voyaging across the United States, so maybe he's familiar with these extreme weather conditions.

Bucky's simply amazed at the amount of  _snow_. He's never in his life seen _so much_ of that powdery stuff, and it's covering  _everything_.

Now standing in the middle of the crowd of tourists in rapture over the imposing sight of the Kremlin, Bucky and his alpha are painting the picture of the innocent little couple lovingly hugging and enjoying the view from the Red Square.

If only they knew, Bucky thinks, almost giddily. If only they knew there was a wolf in their midst... along with its faithful mate.

Inside Steve's long open coat, arms looped tight around his mate's chest, Bucky tilts his head up and gazes at his alpha. Steve's got an arm wrapped around Bucky's waist in return, sharing body heat.

Bucky can sense his adoration radiating off him in waves, shining through his eyes as he studies his alpha's upturned chin, the strong lines of his throat and neck. Steve's nose is up in the air, on the lookout for prey. By now Bucky's used to watching him while he's on a hunt, and he knows how it all works. When he's expected to be an active participant and when Steve only needs him present.

So he just snuggles closer to Steve, soaking up his solid warmth and enjoying the peace that seems to have fallen over them.

" _Mmm_ , I love you," he mumbles.

The corner of Steve's mouth curls up and he squeezes Bucky a little closer, though he keeps his eyes still trained on the crowd.

He's smiling so much more lately, and Bucky loves that change, too. It's not the type of cold and calculating smiles Steve saves for the rest of the world. It's genuine happiness blooming on his face and every time he's the cause of one of them, Bucky's chest fills with a quiet joy and his body's so light he feels like flying.

It starts snowing after a while. The air turns crisp, and the snowflakes falling from the sky are heavy and the size of Bucky's gloved palm. Hidden under his thick woolly hat, Bucky's ears are starting to grow numb from the seeping cold. He also notices that Steve's nose has turned bright pink.

But none of them move, simply letting the tide of people flow around them, parting on one side only to engulf them again on the other.

And standing there in what Bucky's sure has  _got_ to be the coldest place on the whole planet - Bucky burrows further inside his alpha's coat and purrs because he's never been happier.

* * *

"I won't be long. Wait for me."

With those hasty words, Steve had gone after his target - like a wolf giving chase. 

Alone and turning colder by the minute now that his alpha's warmth has been taken away, Bucky hugs himself and tries to keep his teeth from chattering. He's preparing himself for an uncertain amount of waiting before Steve's done all the scouting he needs in order to prepare his plan of action for later tonight, and before he comes back to get him. But he's only been standing there for maybe a quarter of an hour when he catches a strange silhouette out of the corner of his eye.

Trying to act as casual as possible - and he's getting better and better at this whole 'looking innocent' business, Bucky turns his head and pretends to study the monument on the other side of the city square.

His blood turns stone cold, colder than the snow still falling from the sky when he sees the man who's stopped right next to him in the middle of the busy crowd. He's tall, with an impressive build.

And he's wearing an eye-patch.

"Mr Barnes?"

Bucky's frozen in place.

The man looks straight ahead when he speaks, like they're in a spy movie and it's too dangerous to be seen talking while  _simultaneously_ looking at each other. As if the man didn't already appear surreal enough, Bucky thinks, heartbeat sent into a frenzy and an unpleasant sensation settling heavily on his stomach. It feels like a nightmare; the shock, the powerlessness, the _terror_ - but as much as Bucky wishes to wake up, he's quickly realizing it's way too late for that.

The fact that the man knows his name and knew where to find him can only mean one thing.

They've been made.

There are a myriad of thoughts running through his mind in that moment, to the point where he can barely command his mouth to open and close a couple of times with no sound coming out because he can't, he can't, _he can't_   _think!_

"I want you to remain calm, and keep him occupied. That's all I need, got it? And don't even think about giving the alarm because I got snipers trained on that motherfucker _right now_ - and they only need one word."

Bucky gulps loudly.

"One word," the man repeats with grave finality.

Then he turns, and if Bucky thought the man's profile was impressive, being face to face with him is downright scary. His one-eyed glare is burning with determination, and Bucky has to fight off his flinch. They're going to catch Steve. It's written all over the man's face. They'll get him, dead or alive.

There's only one option left to save Steve's life, and Bucky doesn't hesitate.

He nods, curt and unsteady, and immediately feels sick to his stomach. Nausea and panic are suddenly battling inside him for dominance as he fully takes in his current situation, and the deal he just agreed to.

This is betrayal of the worst kind, and finding out will tear at Steve like a jagged knife going through his heart. Bucky knows how much he's loved and cherished, and how much of himself Steve's given to him. Freely opening about his darkest secrets and his past, offering it all to him for safe-keeping.  _Trusting_  Bucky like he's never trusted anyone. And Bucky's about to smash that beautiful trust to the ground.

Bucky whimpers when the realization of what he's about to do hits him head on, leaving him dazed and strangely breathless. But there's _nothing_ he can do now... _Nothing_ but obey.

_Nothing, nothing, nothing..._

Wide blue eyes follow the other man as he turns on his heels and loses himself in the crowd without another word.

* * *

They let Steve kill his chosen pair of bondmates.

He and Bucky infiltrate the couple's hotel room and Steve wastes no time capturing the omega, then getting rid of his alpha in front of him. Meanwhile Steve doesn't notice anything unusual in Bucky's behavior, probably used to the omega's overflowing emotions always bubbling at the surface, ready to submerge him.

Bucky sobs the entire night, curled in a ball and Steve purrs and tries to comfort him the best he can. He doesn't 'play' with other omegas anymore - not since he's found Bucky - so he quickly gets rid of him too. A quick bite, a messy slice and they're alone again.

Covered in blood and death from head to toe, Steve marches to his omega and crawls atop him. He licks the tears streaming down Bucky's face, and Bucky lets him with a shaky moan. His alpha's taking care of him. He always does. Steve is the most devoted, most attentive alpha and when Bucky thinks about the man from this morning and his own promise, he cries even harder.

When Steve's warm tongue licks him lovingly - he despises himself.

When Steve's fingers smear blood down Bucky's throat and chest and stop at his crotch, lighting up every nerve ending in his body with anticipation - he _loathes_  himself.

His alpha entered his rut yesterday, a little ahead of Bucky's heat but it was normal for their cycles to fall out of sync sometimes. It meant that on top of the forced abstinence, if his alpha was to come now his cock would swell with a painful knot meant to be lodged deep inside Bucky. But to knot with an omega who's not in heat would mean agony for the latter as his insides ripped and bled. Last night, Steve had reassured an anxious Bucky that he had no intentions of damaging his mate in such a way.

Being in rut without Bucky's answering pheromones clouding his mind seems to help Steve keep a good hold on his instincts, anyway. His eyes are too bright and his pupils a little dilated, but he's still as composed as usual and just keeps licking and stroking the omega all over with his big hands warm from the blood until his eyes have dried up.

Bucky hiccups one last time and finally falls silent under Steve. His alpha rewards him with a kiss and a nibble to his bottom lip, then pushes himself back up and goes to gather his weapon, visibly preparing himself to leave. This is usually the moment where they fuck - dirty and violent and everything that makes Bucky's head spin with equal parts fear and arousal - but this time it's impossible, so Steve's cutting their routine short. 

He'd go completely unsatisfied for Bucky's sake. And Bucky knows the sharp edge that lingers inside of him after unleashing savagery and death upon the world. He knows the rush Steve experiences after a successful hunt, and the need to share it with Bucky - to pour it all into him and chase the darkness away; give it yet another outlet.

Bucky's felt that darkness, too.

Yet Steve would so selflessly go without, all the while Bucky's preparing himself to sell him out.

Sell out the man  _he loves_.

His bondmate.

And although it's for his sake, too - the man  _had_ threatened Steve's life if Bucky didn't cooperate - it's still a point of no-return. It's the basest, most cowardly act. Bucky's not sure Steve will ever find it in him to forgive him... after.

_I want you to remain calm, and keep him occupied._

Bucky has to obey. There are no governmental agents bursting through the door yet and arresting them which means they still need more time. Time that Bucky's promised to give them, in exchange of sparing Steve's life.

He can do this. For Steve.

_Keep him occupied._

_They only need one word._

The omega stands up on trembling legs, and trails after his mate.

* * *

Steve doesn't question it when Bucky drops on his knees in front of him.

He doesn't wonder what might have gotten into his sweet little omega when his lips part around his girth and he eagerly licks him into his mouth, one hand sliding further to fondle his balls. Bucky often surprises him, and always in the best of ways. 

So with no complaints whatsoever, except for the order to keep his hands behind his back and make use of his mouth only, Steve fists a hand into Bucky's hair and guides him down his long-neglected length with a content groan. Bucky's mostly returned to his previous brown haired look, except for a little blond still peppering the top. Sometimes Steve compares it in his mind to a paint brush that's been tipped in gold paint.

Tears spill freely from the corners of Bucky's eyes when Steve pushes him further and his throat convulses around him, but he holds on and everything is tight and hot and wet and  _perfect_.

Steve wants to come down his throat, and when he does he'll finally get to pop that knot he's been needing for what surely feels like ages. He needs to become one with his mate once more, the rut _demands_ it of him and it's only a tiny bit easier to control himself when Bucky's not in heat himself. A _very_ tiny bit. Already he's clawing at Bucky's shoulder in anticipation, other hand tightening in brown-blond hair; but unexpectedly there's also a little trepidation tinting his excitement - it's fear of experiencing pain, but also fear for his mate.

Bucky gags himself on him again, but quickly regains control of his reflexes and hollows his cheeks with loud, desperate sounds and Steve's suddenly on the verge, muscles seizing up, quivering from the tension as he hold on at the very edge, body _so_ ready to shatter into splinters of light.

He forces himself to go still, and thugs at the omega's hair to halt his bobbing movements.

" _Buh... cky_ ," he moans, dragging the beloved name for as long as he can, syllables rolling lazily off his tongue.

At his feet Bucky plasters himself entirely against Steve's legs with a broken sob, and Steve can smell his excitement amp considerably up at the mention of his name. Bucky's unbridled reactions have always fascinated him. And turned him on like nothing can. 

Not even death.

"Baby," he whimpers, because that's what Bucky's reduced him to - a whimpering man begging for release. "When I...  _ughhh_ , come. You need to... _fuck!_ You need... just the head..."

He barely makes sense as Bucky rebels against his unspoken command to stop and instead licks into his slit over and over, doing his damned best to try to coax even more of the salty precome that's been dripping steadily out of his engorged cock.

Bucky hums in understanding despite Steve's stuttering mess of words and Steve hisses something that sounds like a  _"thank fuck"_  .

He lets go of Bucky's hair and watches with hooded eyes as the omega gets him off in no time, always so eager to please.

When he comes his hips jerk with the intensity and he empties himself on Bucky's tongue in long, jolting spurts.

Bucky swallows him down hungrily, eyes closed and expression one of pure bliss. Then remembering his alpha's request, he drags his lips sweetly up Steve's cock and settles with just the head still in his mouth. Steve moans, hands returning to Bucky's mussed up hair.

The omega rolls his tongue around the tip like he's sucking on a melting popsicle, feeling Steve's knot quickly starting to form right underneath. 

Steve's already big when erect, but with his knot he's stretching Bucky's mouth to its very limits. When Bucky cries this time Steve suspects there's now real pain causing those shiny tears. Teeth locked together and sweat dripping from his brow, Steve reaches for his perfect little omega and strokes his distended cheek in a soothing manner he often uses on him. Bucky's eyes flutter close, eyelashes coalesced with tears.

"I love you," Steve offers reverently as Bucky applies just the right amount of pressure on his knot to make his toes curl.

Bucky cries silently at his feet, his own cock still hard and denied after pleasuring his alpha - and everything in the world feels right.

* * *

They barge into the hotel room after Steve and Bucky, thoroughly exhausted by two rounds of the most careful sex they've ever had, have fallen asleep in the dead couple's bed.

Steve manages to take down two of the heavily armed men with only a knife and his skill, and even wounds a third before they're swarming him, kicking him in the stomach with the butt of their weapons and punching him until he's coughing up blood.

The men have rushed between them and quickly separated them, ignoring Bucky's pitiful attempts to free himself from their hold. Steve himself struggles violently when they cuff him, foaming at the mouth and crazy-eyed where he's fallen on his knees. He searches for Bucky atop their heads, calls for him and throws himself against the men struggling to hold him down ruthlessly, spitting promises to gut everyone's mates and children if they don't let Bucky go immediately.

Bucky cries harder than ever, body wracked with the power of his hiccups. It hurts to watch Steve restrained, and it hurts even more to hear him worry so badly about his omega's well-being.

When he's the one responsible for his capture.

Then the room unexpectedly falls silent, save for Steve's invectives and horrifyingly graphic threats. Bucky looks to the door, tears still spilling from his burning eyes, and recognizes the man with the eye-patch.

Steve too falls eventually silent, chest heaving and brows furrowed above dark eyes. He's panting from exertion, mouth open and drooling red, and when the one-eyed man looks down at him Steve shows his teeth and growls, the sound rumbling and rolling deep inside his chest.

It resonates incredibly loud in the crowded room, bouncing off the walls and making the windows rattle.

Bucky takes a step back by reflex, eyes wide with fear at that threatening display but he's stopped by the two men still holding him immobilized.

Except that he's not the only one - in fact, many of the men surrounding them move back like one wave, like the reflux of the sea, because they can feel it, too - Steve's a force of destruction and everything in his posture currently _screams_   _murder_.

Only the man seems unaffected by the display. In fact, after a glance at his prisoner, he walks up to Bucky instead and with a single flick of his wrist gets rid of Bucky's bodyguards.

Then he extends his hand and in a loud, clear voice, he says:

"Thank you for your cooperation, James."

* * *

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Hope y'all are still doing good!  
> First of all, a special thank you to everyone who tried to motivate me into writing faster. I really appreciate the effort, even though I'm still as slow as ever /facedesks.  
> Also my apologies for all the juridic bullshit that'll prolly stretch over the next 2 chapters. I really know nothing about the U.S. legal system and... I don't really care, eh.

* * *

The neon lights flicker overhead. The clock hanging on the wall to Steve's left ticks the time away, _agonizingly_ constant and predictable. Every second driving him closer to the edge where questionable sanity turns into blind madness.

He curls his hands into fists and gives a sharp tug to his restrains. There's still no give, but it's a good way to pass his frustrations.

He's sitting in the middle of a sterile interrogation room, handcuffed to a metallic bar screwed into the table in front of him. The handcuffs are thick and heavy around his wrists; the bar looks as sturdy as it feels. Steve had tried pulling and clawing at it with all his might, but nothing proved useful. He only gave up when blisters started forming under the meaty parts of his palms. As for the table, he'd quickly discovered it had all four feet bolted to the floor. Whatever organization is responsible for his capture - hired guns... or the CIA - they had expected maximum resistance. And acted accordingly.

Steve grinds his teeth harder and keeps glaring at the one-way mirror facing him.

* * *

His first visitor is the man with the eye-patch.

"My name is Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Do you happen to know where you are, Mr Rogers?"

Steve grinds his teeth harder in reply. He wonders what this S.H.I.E.L.D. acronym stands for for a solid minute before his hatred for the man blazes anew with thoughts featuring himself brutally assaulting the director and enjoying the hell out of every bone he breaks.

"I don't know if you've noticed," the man continues as if he hasn't noticed Steve's murderous gaze, "but this isn't your usual police office."

Steve squints, and growls menacingly. A low warning sign that he doesn't like mind games when he's not the one making the rules.

"You killed two of my men in Russia, and clawed the _eyes out_ of another one. Son, you're in a prison for the criminally _insane_."

Steve's growl dies somewhere inside his throat as he takes that revelation in. Insane, him? More like the rest of the world is too afraid to see him for who he is - too afraid to accept the truth whenever they meet the challenge in Steve's hard blue eyes.

"And you'll remain here for the duration of your trial," Fury pursues in that stern, teacher voice, and pretends as if he didn't stop to study Steve's reaction to where he's being detained very carefully. "Hence the lack of belt and laces, as you may have noticed. 'Cus you're one _crazy_ bastard, Rogers."

Steve's had enough of the hollow talk, so he lets Fury yap all he wants and focuses on sizing him up instead.

The man's scent's a bit confusing - not omega, but not quite an alpha, either. With a frown, he inhales deeper. Still smells wrong.

Fury's a  _beta_ , then, he decides. A rare breed, the betas, hence Steve's inability to tell one when he sees one. Considered the luckiest designation since they don't experience neither the heat of the omegas, nor the rut of the alphas. Which also means they can never achieve a true bond with any other designation, or so Steve's been taught back when he used to go to school, anyway.

Steve has rarely encountered any betas, and the few times a beta has crossed his path he's snapped their necks the moment he got them alone behind a dumpster in some dark alley. There's never been any dramatic staging for their murders, because Steve's never experienced any overwhelming urge to claim them or whomever they were bonded to - but he still feels challenged enough in his status of Apex Predator that he _has_  to destroy them. On sight. They are a variable Steve can't understand, a sub-gender orientation that never fit into the Domination/submission dynamics as neatly as the rest of the population.

For that reason only, Steve wants his hands wrapped around the man's throat, choking the life out of him.

But then he remembers how that _simple_ beta has been the one who caught _him_ , and turned his mate against him - and the desire to tear apart the man in front of him with his own hands only grows until it nearly _suffocates_ him.

 _Fuck_ , but he's going to kill Fury. And he's going to do it slow, basking in the power, and the bitter tang of fear and blood. He'll recreate Sharon Carter's murder, but this time it's going to feel a thousand times better. And there'd be no needy omegas to distract him.

"Alright, you know what - don't talk. Mutism won't save your hide. No more than it'll save James'."

Steve's growl kick-starts again at the mention of the name, so foreign to his own ears because  _Bucky_ has told him he hated it. Hated being just another plain guy with a plain name. He'd wanted to be special, and Steve... had made him his everything.

But now Steve's got his own reasons to hate the very sound of that name.

_"Thank you for your cooperation, James."_

The rumbling sound grows louder inside his chest the more he thinks about  _him_ , and he almost forgets where he is and who's in front of him for a bit, swamped by contrary emotions battling for dominance.

"Well, well, well. It seems I struck a sensitive chord, there. You really liked that runt, didn't you? Enough to drag him along on your killer spree, and then he sells you out like you're dog shit to him. Yeah, I'd be angry, too. If I were you, I'd have offed him the same night I killed the other guy. But you crazy SOBs rarely make sense, hm?"

 _Everything makes sense_ , he thinks fiercely enough he's unsure if he said that out loud.

 _Bucky_ makes sense - or he used to. Everything about him used to feel so right, from the taste of his skin to the weight of his gaze on Steve's back as he sat obediently in a corner and witnessed Steve's scenes. Those scenes where he taunted his helpless victims by showing off how easily breakable their so-called bond is, and how natural it's always been for Steve to claim back what's rightfully his. 

With Bucky on his side, Steve used to feel like he could take on the world. He felt finally complete, even though he's, to this day, a bit skeptical about that feeling being caused by their bond. What had mattered to him was that Bucky had been there, watching and encouraging. Always so warm and welcoming, and proving that having some stability in one's life isn't so bad. It'd actually been the best feeling - knowing that Bucky would always be there, _afterwards_ ; after Steve's washed all the blood away from his hands.

Knowing that his omega would always love him, unconditionally.

_But what if he never was on my side?_

The doubts settle on his stomach, heavy like lead.

Steve's had all the time in the world after waking up from whatever they injected him with in Russia to parse all the information together, since they left him to stew in his own juices and scream himself hoarse for what has felt like _days_ \- but has probably only been hours. If the clothes he wears haven't already been a sure indication that something isn't quite right - being so thoroughly ignored, and denied any of his rights has been enough to convince him nothing of this is normal procedure. So, he's in the hands of a private organization.

In any case, Steve hasn't needed to look too far to figure out how they've been so easily captured; how this S.H.I.E.L.D. could have caught him so unprepared.

_"Thank you for your cooperation, James."_

The words feel like they've been seared into his skin. They _burn_ , mocking, and all too real to bear. They make his brain hurt behind his eyes every time he replays the scene in his mind. And they taint every single word his omega has ever uttered, every promise to be loyal to his alpha - every declaration of love.

This is Steve's conclusion. Bucky had planned this. All along looking into Steve's eyes - and he'd  _lied_.

Every time they'd been talking about a shared future, and Bucky's eyes had lightened up in excitement, his smile so easy and wide - he'd simplybeen waiting for an opportunity to get  _away_ from Steve.

That single moment in Russia, and that one sentence has opened Steve's eyes to the reality of what has been truly happening all the time that  _he_ thought he'd finally found something that was worth too much to him to let it go. Bucky... had meant more than any other omega Steve's laid his cruel hands on. There'd just been too much he wanted from the man to muster the strength to get rid of him. He'd provided Steve with a kind of support he'd only ever heard about, but never actively sought out, or thought he'd have any use of.

Bucky had proven him wrong, in the most unexpected of ways. And the most enjoyable, too.

He'd carved himself a space inside Steve's chest, bent his very bones and nestled himself between vital organs; he'd turned his whole world upside down. And Steve had welcomed him there, because he'd never stood a chance against Bucky in the first place. Against an omega that felt like he'd been made just for him.

And even now as he's planning out his revenge, those thoughts _hurt_ him. Steve has to bite back the mournful sounds when he think of the moment he's going to drive his blade into Bucky and hold on to him tight as he agonizes inside his alpha's embrace. He's under no impression that killing Bucky won't surely kill a significant part of _Steve,_ too.

Because it will.

His train of thoughts whenever he thinks of Bucky are now constantly this ugly mix of love and hate, and an overwhelming thirst for vengeance. There's Steve, who loves Bucky. But there's also the _Apex Predator_ , and he can't let a betrayal so profound go unpunished.

He can't let Bucky walk away as if Steve never mattered.

* * *

"You know, your partner - or whatever you two psychopaths are to each other - he sold you out."

The more Fury taunts him, the more Steve's eyes darken with anger. Yet still not a single word has fallen from his stubborn mouth. The simple thought of his own foolishness - trusting someone else with his secrets and his safety; trusting _Bucky_  - has enraged him enough to rob him of his ability to speak, anyway.

"You know he's gonna testify against you, right? You and me both know that runt killed and enjoyed it just as much as you did, but he'll only need to spin some sob story about being under your influence and he could barely see the inside of a jail cell before he's out. Doesn't it sound  _unfair_ , to you?"

Steve's arms tremble with the amount of control he's exercising over himself to avoid reacting to those words, fingers digging into his own flesh. He couldn't be any more indifferent to the flaws in the legal system. But he'd like nothing more but to see Bucky punished for what he's done, and watching him walk away while Steve's to be locked for probably the rest of his life in some asylum is enough to drive him out of his fucking mind with anger.

He knows the rational, patient side of him that's capable of days of silent stalking after a potential prey doesn't mind the wait. But the animal side of him, and more specifically the physical manifestations of his mating cycle are making rational thinking a true challenge.

"You're gonna be caged like the beast you are, but that bitch of yours is gonna be free to roam the streets. Doesn't it piss you off? I don't know how you feel about it but I'd rather see you _both_ beat each other to death in a prison cell than half-ass my job. But right now I have nothing on that guy, nothing a jury's gonna take into account while  _he's_  jumping at the chance to put everything on your head. So how about you talk, and tell us everything that James did?"

Steve shows his teeth. He'd like to see Bucky behind prison bars just as much as he'd like to see  _himself_ there.

No, they need to be outside for what Steve has planned; he's going to need a wide berth. He can't make his vengeance happen while locked in a prison cell, robbed of his freedom to be, and to go wherever he so pleases.

And it's otherwise highly improbable that he and Bucky would end up in the same place. He couldn't imagine anyone locking both alphas and omegas together without any measures in place to keep the two designations separate. A few omegas in heat could lead to a mass murder. All in all prison means Steve's chances of getting to Bucky are close to none, so he can't care less if Bucky ends up in one or if only Steve does.

But there's just something about making Fury's life as difficult as he possibly can, and if what he wants so badly is to drag Bucky down for a few murders, Steve's sure as hell not going to help.

"So... you're really gonna let some omega... _piss_ all over you?"

Steve's mind turns completely blank.

The chains of the handcuffs clang loud and sudden against the table when Steve leaps up with a roar and reaches for the other man's throat - but he's stopped in his momentum and the expected bite of the metal into his wrists still punches the breath out of him. He screams and tries to push harder against the restrains, his face heating up from the exertion and all his muscles locking up with the effort.

"I'M GONNA CUT HIS _FUCKING_ DICK OFF," He belts out, breathing hard as he keeps fighting the restrains. He's forgotten all his silent strategy, all because the man has finally managed to make him see red. "and after," he adds in a deeper, sickly-sweet voice, "it's gonna be  _your_ turn."

None of it appears to phase Fury in the least. In fact, the man has crossed his arms like he's got all the time in the world, an air of quiet triumph behind his one black eye.

"How about we strike a deal then, Mr Rogers," Fury offers, seemingly out of nowhere, "you scratch my back, and I scratch yours."

Steve stares at him, arms outstretched and fingers crooked like claws.

He pushes against his restrains one last time, groans when the iron bites into his skin, then falls back down onto his chair.

He doesn't ask what the fuck is going on, too busy trying to get his breath back but his expression must speak for itself that Fury's managed to take him by surprise.

"Your complete testimony on every single murder," Fury explains, and makes a show of wiping away Steve's spit from his forehead. "including Mr Barnes' misdeeds and all the ways he's facilitated those killings."

Then Fury pauses, and turns to signal something behind his back, to somebody no doubt standing behind the one-way mirror and monitoring their conversation. After that strange behavior, he turns back around and steeples his hands, one eye pinning Steve with a kind of focus that's been bordering on uncomfortable.

Too bad Steve's way past any discomfort at this point.

"- and in exchange, I give you what you want."

Steve frowns, still unsure of what's happening. With a quick glance behind his back, Fury leans in closer and gives him a humorless smile that reminds Steve of a wolf.

"I will give you your mate, right in this room."

As the word 'mate' ricochets over the barren walls, Steve feels himself tighten with desire - no doubt a result of his rut. Something else that's out of his control, and that he can only blame Bucky for. Steve doesn't know if he'll ever get used to feeling this way; on the brink of loosing himself into his omega the moment he catches a hint of the other's scent.

Right now it's still manageable, but barely. He's maybe a little more excitable and prompt to emotional outbursts, or fits of blinding rage, but he hasn't hit the 'critical' point, yet. But having Bucky in here with him, especially if he's finally entered his heat can only have two outcomes: a violent coupling - or death.

If Steve doesn't manage to snap the omega's neck before he's caught a whiff of his body, it'll be too late for the latter. Once inside of him Steve'd be as powerless as a newborn, _compelled_ by his biology to keep his bondmate _safe_ and happy. He'd have to wait it out until he can finally think clearly enough to do what must be done.

Steve brings a heavily restrained arm up to his face, and then bites his own forearm - something he's caught himself doing multiple times now. When he closes his eyes, he can almost believe he's got his teeth sinking deep into Bucky's neck, right over that scarred skin.

He lets out a satisfied little growl and shifts around in his chair, his cock heavy as heat pools in his groin. The rut's starting to take its toll on him, and this is one of the coping mechanisms he's come up with that would help him keep a clear mind even through the passing haze of his rut. A poor substitute for the mate his body craves.

Steve would have preferred taking his time with Bucky, and it's the reason why he's far from thrilled to see them both end up in prison, unsure of the chances he'd get to kill his mate and make the moment  _last_. Because he wants to experience every single torture he can impose on Bucky's treacherous body before he looses his mind, and all that's left is to bring a knife to his throat, or bury it deep in his chest. Steve wants Bucky's  _agony_ , and he wants Bucky to watch him the whole time, Steve's face the last thing he'll see.

He wants Bucky to feel what his betrayal did to Steve. And what loosing his omega will feel like for... maybe, the rest of Steve's life.

But here, in this room, he'll be hardly left with any weapon. That's never stopped Steve from taking someone's life before, but maybe it won't come to that. Maybe he can use Bucky, and keep those careful plans of revenge safely tucked away, to be put in motion for a later date.

Steve's eyes flutter open, but his eyelids are heavy as he considers Fury from the other side of the table, and wonders if the man's aware of _everything_  he's offering.

Fury clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable as he watches Steve chewing his own arm.

"No handcuffs, no chains, just the two of you. After your testimony, I'll bring him to you and you're free to paint the walls with his insides for all I care. Nobody's gonna cry for some bastard who's no less of a monster than you are."

Steve's breath hitches in his throat when he pictures it. What a beautiful painting it'd be - crimson and so vivid. A savage masterpiece.

Or he could choose to leave streaks of come everywhere in its place, he thinks, a shiver running down his powerful frame and settling in his balls. When Fury looks at him he only sees the killer, and bargains only with him, but not the mated alpha. Steve doesn't care about informing him that he's just as interested in Bucky's blood as he is in his ass.

Steve bites down harder on his own flesh, this time to bring himself back to the present time before he's managed to make himself come in his pants just from the thoughts of either murdering or fucking Bucky, because the last time his knot had started to swell post-orgasm and his omega wasn't down there fast enough, it _really_   _fucking hurt_. 

The thought suddenly occurs to him that while Bucky used to be more than willing to submit - even before they knew each other, as Bucky had confessed a few months after their bonding,  _but it was all lies wasn't it_ \- this time around he may not be so welcoming. In fact, Steve's expecting heavy resistance, the likes he usually gets from his preys. Bucky's going to look at him with nothing but fear and _rage_ distorting his features. There'll be no soft kisses, no gentle murmurs into his ear, no loving affection pouring out of the smaller man's eyes as he looked up at Steve. Looked up at him like he was Bucky's whole world.

He's going to miss Bucky's tenderness. More than he dares to admit.

 _How could it all have been fake?_ He thinks darkly, suckling on his own skin.

The fact that Bucky played him so well is what makes an old sore spot inside him ache, where he used to hurt so much everytime his classmates dismissed him as a failure of an alpha, a sub-par individual who didn't deserve anyone's friendship, and was only good for being kicked in the stomach and left behind in the dust.

Thinking of Bucky brings all those feelings of inadequacy to the surface - of being so overtly mocked and despised.

_No, no, no. Don't think about that. Don't! Think!_

When he's confident he's got himself back under control, he pulls his arm away and licks his lips. The hairs on his arm are covered in spit, shiny and clumped together. Steve stares at the indentations left by his teeth, and pictures the scars he's left on his omega. The scars he'd been convinced the other one wanted as much as he did.

_No!_

"You'll bring him to me," he says slowly, trying to focus back on the present. "But how will you explain the sudden death of one of your captives to your superiors?"

He doesn't really care knowing about whatever hierarchy's responsible for Fury's actions, but he does wonder if this isn't just a trap, or a false promise just to get him to confess. Although the desperation he can feel coming off the other man in waves, both from his words and his actions, tells him this could be a very serious offer.

"I can cover my ass," Fury's quick to reassure him, sly smile on his lips but the tension still clear in the lines of his face, and the tightness of his jaw. "Don't worry about it."

Steve doesn't ask for any more clarifications.

He doesn't need them. There's just something in that man that suggests he's capable of crossing the line when push comes to shove.

Steve remains quiet, gaze fixed on the one-way mirror behind Fury's back, while Fury studies him the whole time. Steve can only guess the part of their conversation where the other man offered a person's life in exchange for a testimony hasn't been recorded, the cameras and microphones most probably turned off for the time being.

So, back to that proposition... it won't get him out of wherever the hell he is - but Steve's confident that a good lawyer  _could_ get him out of a life sentence, and then he'd have all the leisure to plan his vengeance. Prison time could even be beneficial for him; the public could forget about him and make it easier to hunt in the U.S. once more, instead of having to fly to foreign countries where The Matchmaker has never made the cover of a single newspaper. And the next time Steve's out, he won't be making the same mistakes of dragging along an acolyte that'd only make him so much easier to catch.

The next time he's out, he'll never let anyone take him back alive.

As for the chance of getting his hands on Bucky in the foreseeable future... Steve remembers warm scents filling his nose with the hint of an imminent heat. And soft promises to be there,  _soon, yes, together... I love you._

And he laughs, loud and sudden.

And bitter.

On the other side of the table, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. stares at him with more than a hint of unease.

* * *

Two days later, when Steve has been finally deemed sane enough to be briefed on his case, he's escorted out of his spartan glass cell from the high-security ward he's been assigned to, and brought back into the interrogation room, leashed to the table just like before.

Like a dog.

Steve barks at the guards, fierce and animal-like, and then laughs as he watches them flinch and get out of the room as fast as they can. Steve thinks they can't reasonably blame him for acting like a beast when they treat him like one.

His second visit is from his lawyer. 

She's been a appointed by the court to represent him, and as she walks in Steve takes her outer appearance and knows in that same moment that he won't be keeping her. He'll need a _shark_ to get what he wants, and this doe-eyed woman isn't his ticket to there.

Then she steps close enough into his personal space that he can smell her, and the scent of a mated omega on the cusp of her heat hits him like a wall of bricks.

He's standing up and kicking his chair to the floor and roaring at her before he can even  _think_ about what he's doing.

"GET THAT BITCH IN HEAT OUT OF HERE," is what he keeps screaming, spitting all over the place as the woman runs away with tears running down her face and smearing her make-up, and the guards are rushing back in to neutralize him.  _"_ _GET HER THE FUCK OUT!"_

* * *

When he's brought back to his cell, an open wound oozing blood at his temple that nobody cares enough to bandage - Steve makes a show of sitting on the ground in the middle of his cell and crossing his arms defiantly, stretching his shirt over his muscular chest.

On the other side of the glass wall, the other prisoners are shouting and throwing themselves against the walls, or huddled in a corner of their cell as they rock back and forth.

Steve stares them all down from across the hallway, and smiles, all teeth on display.

* * *

Nick Fury is watching the live feed of the inside of Steve Rogers' cell in the special ward for the criminally insane.

He shakes his head.

"This guy is the creepiest fucker I've ever had to deal with. And why the _fuck_ did he attack his lawyer?"

One of the doctors, a nervous woman in a uniform draws closer to him and after dialing something on the console below the feed, she's pulling up the video footage of the incident in its place.

"Mr Rogers is a sociopath also suffering from what we believe is an extreme case of megalomania. He hasn't spoken much but during one of his recent outbursts, he did let the words 'Apex Predator' slip out - if you're familiar with-"

" _Yes_ , I know what _Apex Predator_ means," Fury snaps, and motions for the doctor to go on.

"Well, um, it's not exactly a pathology in the strict meaning of the term. But I've never seen it reach such proportions. And after you let an omega in his room, the fact that she could be in heat and force a bond on him; _control_  him through her biology is what made him react so strongly."

"But that guy's got a bondmate. And her ID says she's got a mate, too. Doesn't he know how a bond works?"

"Mr Rogers is kind of a unique case, sir. Throughout his life he's...um, 'had' a large number of omegas," she says, blushing furiously although her mouth twists in disgust. "And he's given them the bonding mark before executing them, if I read your reports correctly. This implies a level of dissociation that's unheard of, where his body believes what his mind tells it to believe. The old-fashioned vision of the bonding requires that both the alpha and the omega are in their mating cycles, but as you're well aware, many people and mainly the betas like yourself have been able to forge bonds outside of those cycles and many have claimed they can feel the resulting connection with their bondmate. The recent studies on mating cycles and bonding rituals have actually reached the conclusion that a bonding can be achieved at any time and not specifically during a heat/rut cycle - the bite is simply more likely to take, and the bond is more likely to happen from the first try if it's done in the traditional way. Otherwise, it may take multiple tries. But him? He completely defies all the biological imperatives tied to the bonding!"

"Yeah, alright, but... don't get too excited, doc."

The woman blushes anew and starts wringing her hands together.

"I'm-I'm sorry, his case is just... What he's done is truly _horrible_ , but for the small group of scientists currently studying the workings of his psyche, he's... um, fascinating."

She clears her throat, and when Fury keeps staring at her unblinkingly, she takes the hint.

"Oh, uh... Yes. So. As I were saying... We all know that when a bondmate dies, the survivor is incapable and unwilling to bond with someone else for the rest of their lives. This is what makes a bond, a... uhh, bond. But Rogers has gone through these nontraditional bonds  _so many times_ that it seems he's built some kind of psychological _resistance_ to them. I'll have to ask him personally about this, but I expect he doesn't feel any lasting echoes of all his victims. Because such a swarm of connections should have fried his brains a long time ago. He'd be a drooling vegetable in a camisole by now, not standing there all defiant and proud and... and he's... actually  _proud_ of all the things he's done," she finishes quietly, as if to herself, and Fury notices the shiver that makes its way down her frame.

"That still doesn't explain why the fuck he lost his mind when that omega walked in."

"Well, I believe Rogers was... worried, or maybe 'afraid' would be a better word..." she trails off as she stares at the footage playing on loop on the screen, where Steve's face registers once again who's standing in front of him, and there's as much anger as there is fear behind his wide blue eyes. "Yes, he was _afraid_ of the omega because she could potentially rouse the alpha instincts in him, a raw biological response that would have been out of his control. And he has simultaneously no guarantees that he'll be able to kill her like he usually does with every omega he's bonded with. He seems absolutely averse to being under anyone's control but his own, for any amounts of times, all as a result of his megalomania that makes him believe he's some sort of superior alpha. I presume this is _one_ hypothesis, anyway."

"Then explain Barnes."

"I can't, sir. That man... shouldn't be alive. Judging from Mr Rogers' reaction to a potential mating during a heat/rut cycle, he's vehemently against an omega holding any power over him. As for the bonding, he's killed all his previous omegas after biting them as all the police reports suggest, once again proving that he never intends on keeping these omegas after he's claimed them. And he's always made sure that the victims were never in heat at the time of their murders."

"But _Barnes_ is an omega, and they've bonded. He's been through at least three heats since his kidnapping! Why didn't Rogers kill _him?_ Why keep that one alive?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to ask him yourself."

"Who, Rogers?" Fury snorts, even though he's far from amused at the prospect of another one-on-one with the sickest serial killer he's ever caught. "He barely talks, and that's only when he's in the mood. Fucker won't give me anything he doesn't want to."

"I meant Mr Barnes, sir."

Fury considers the suggestion as the doctor puts the live feed of Rogers' cell back up on the screen. The fucker is standing up now, and he's staring straight at the camera like he knows they've been discussing him all that time.

"Fuck," Fury mutters, and turns off the screen.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this isn't very long and nothing really happens, but the next chapter will feature Bucky and where he ended up, as well as the consequences of experiencing his heat without his bondmate (poor baby, he has it way worse than Steve as you'll find out). Also, I'll be introducing my fucked up versions of Matt Murdock and Tony Stark!


End file.
